Wrestling with God

"In a controversy, the instant we feel anger we have already ceased striving for the truth and have begun striving for ourselves." Buddha

The first sentence of my first post of this blog was a quote by Brennan Manning: “In a futile attempt to erase our past, we deprive the community of our healing gift. If we conceal our wounds out of fear and shame, our inner darkness can neither be illuminated nor become a light for others.”

This blog was my challenge to myself to be open and honest about the struggles of grief and the struggles of choosing faith over fear. I chose the title “When Two Stories Collide” because my journey with Jesus has been more of a collision course than a Sunday drive. This past month was one of my head to head battles with him and honestly, I didn't want to share this part of my story. It makes me angry and frustrated and embarrassed, and it’s one of the whys God still hasn't answered in my life. I’m afraid to tell this part and in a way, I'm ashamed.

But my friend Kevin challenged me with this question this past week: “What if this season of your life has nothing to do with you but everything to do with the season in the kingdom?” He said I had to choose faith over fear and keep telling my story because this life isn't about him or me but about bringing glory to God and bringing people into His kingdom. So then I had to ask myself, “Do I want to be a part of what God is doing in His kingdom?” I do, but it’s hard; this part hurts. And that’s when I’m reminded of another Manning quote I used in my first post: “In Love’s service there are only wounded soldiers… Without your wounds, where would your power be?”

Paul said it even better:

"Each time he said, 'My grace is all you need. My power works best in weakness.' So now I am glad to boast about my weaknesses, so that the power of Christ can work through me." 2 Corinthians 12:9 (NLT)

In my weakness, He is strong. So my prayer as I write this is that somewhere in the kingdom, Christ will move in my weakness to bring power to the person who needs it.

Before I left for vacation, I found out I had HPV. Now people who are sexually active, and even some people in the health field, will read that statement and think, "Well, that's not really a big deal." For some, it's not. The truth is that HPV is the most common STI, and most people who become infected will never even know they have it. Others of us aren't so lucky. Some of us will hear "HPV" and the words "precancerous lesions" and "cervical cancer" will echo through the chambers of our mind. At this point, the writer in me would like to continue that sentence with: "and as the doctor spoke, anger echoed through my heart." But that would be a lie; "echo" would imply there was room for a reflection of sound waves but that wasn't the case because every inch of my heart was filled with anger, so much so that it was seeping out of every artery and vein. In simplest terms: I was pissed. In that moment, and many moments since, I looked back at my past year, all that I felt I'd overcome and moved past and the progress I felt I had made in my faith, and I was mad. I thought about how all I'd ever done was try to be the best wife I could be, how I had completely committed myself to my husband and loved him unconditionally, and honestly, all I could do as the doctor rambled on was curse my husband and curse God.

The battle began.

All of us deal with anger in different ways, including our anger with God. Some people wear a mask and pretend they are okay. They go about their spiritual routine of prayer and worship approaching God with the lie that they are "fine" and whatever they are dealing with is no big deal. Others might give God the cold shoulder. Instead of talking it out, they run the other way and want nothing to do with Him. In the world of fight versus flight though, I've never found my wings. I fall in the third category: I'm a fighter (just ask my siblings).

So this past month God and I have really gone at it. Or rather I've gone at Him and He's taken the punches. I told one of my friends, sometimes I wish there was a way to record my conversations with God- I think it'd make for really good tv. Lately, my nights with God have gone something like this: (Please note: I'm not watering this down. The following conversation will have strong language. I don't use these words in my conversations with the public, but I God knows my heart and I think the most real relationship we should have is with Him so I approach Him as the sinful person I am. I think I'd be doing a disservice to myself and God by not approaching Him with honesty and I'd be doing a disservice to you by being anything but real. There's the warning.)

Me: God I hate the psalms.
God: Why? They helped you through a lot this year.
Me: Maybe but I hate them.
God: Have you read them lately?
Me: I don't want to read them. They just piss me off.
God: Why?
Me: Because. It's not fair. David got to pray against his enemies and ask for retribution and justice. Somebody wronged him and all he had to do was ask you to strike them dead. But not me. I live in the stupid new covenant so I don't get to do that. Why do I have to forgive him and turn the other cheek? It's bullshit. The only cheek I want to turn is the other ass cheek for him to kiss. He's the freaking nightmare that just won't stay out of my life! I wish him and his stupid whores would all get cancer and die. He doesn't deserve my forgiveness. He won't even say "I'm sorry." Why can't he say he's sorry? I was a good wife who would do anything for him. I don't deserve all of this.

And right here is where the Holy Spirit always jumps in and convicts me: "For all have sinned and fallen short of the glory of God." (Romans 3:23) and "You have heard that it was said to the people long ago, 'You shall not murder, and anyone who murders will be subject to judgment.' But I tell you that anyone who is angry with a brother or sister will be subject to judgment. Again, anyone who says to a brother or sister, 'Raca,' is answerable to the court. And anyone who says, 'You fool!' will be in danger of the fire of hell." (Matthew 5:21-22)

Me: Grr.

Yes, I growl at God. The truth is all sin looks the same from heaven, and I deserve death for mine. God's grace covers ALL sin and I am NOT some special exception.

Now I'm not going to pretend I have answers to my anger; I think this is something I'm going to wrestle with for quite some time. I'm not sure what's right or what's wrong but I can say this: at least I'm wrestling over it with God and not without Him. I think it's okay that I'm struggling; I'm human. I think it's okay because I know that I serve a God that is full of grace. And it's because of that grace that I know I can't stay in this angry place.

This weekend I went to an advent concert and one of the singers shared part of the Christmas story in a way I'd never heard it before. He said on that night when Gabriel visited Mary that Gabriel presented the Gospel in its simplest form. He came to Mary and asked her what God asks all of us: he asked her to let Jesus live inside her, to carry Him with her and then give Him to the world. She said yes. And a long time ago, I said yes to that same thing, to let Jesus live inside of me, to carry Him with me and to share Him with the world. Unfortunately, there are parts of my past that will now always be a part of my future because of the consequences of my husband's sin. We live in an ugly, sinful world and that's a part of it. But I can't allow that to give me an ugly heart. There isn't room for both Jesus and the anger. I have to let one go.

Praise God that He is patient, because I know I won't get there overnight. But tonight I did make a step by opening up my Bible and reading some of the psalms. And I found several reasons to let go of the anger and hold on to Christ.

Psalm 103:10-13-- He has not dealt with us according to our sins. Nor rewarded us according to our iniquities, for as high as the heavens are above the earth so great is His lovingkindness toward those who fear Him. As far as the east is from the west, so far has He removed our transgressions from us. Just as a father has compassion on his children, so the Lord has compassion on those who fear Him.

Psalm 119:71-- It is good for me that I was afflicted that I may learn thy statutes.

Psalm 147:3-- He heals the brokenhearted and binds up their wounds.

Psalm 37:5-8-- Commit your way to the Lord. Trust also in Him, and He will do it. And He will bring forth your righteousness as the light and your judgment as the noonday. Rest in the Lord and wait patiently for Him. Do not fret because of him who prospers in his way, because of the man who carries out wicked schemes. Cease from anger and foresake wrath. Do not fret; it leads only to evildoing.

There's No Place Like Home

“There’s no place like home.” Dorothy, The Wizard of Oz

I’m learning one of the drawbacks of a blog is it only allows me to communicate in one form- the written word. I love writing (and the power of the backspace button) but for a, shall we say, bubbly and witty person like myself (hey- it sounds more flattering than LOUD and soaking in sarcasm),  it doesn't always allow me to fully communicate my message and leaves a lot of room for error in translation. I held out a long time on the shorthand hahas and lol’s of the texting world but finally succumbed to the pressure of social media after far too many times of having to say, “I’m sorry. I was joking.” There’s just something about the spoken word, the interaction between you and your audience; and for me, the inflection of my voice or a facial expression can be far more powerful than a backspace.

This month I was asked to speak briefly at a ladies night at my church. Unfortunately, due to a death in the family I was unable to follow through on the commitment but I wanted to share and expand on the message that God put on my heart for that night. Here’s where the benefits of a blog kick in: I say “expand” because I was given five minutes for the ladies night- we all know that amount of time is laughable when it comes to my storytelling! I love entertaining, helping people find the love of Christ through the joy of laughter. So today I’m going to write as if I was there tonight having a conversation with the ladies.  I want you to sit back, relax and read like you were listening to me speak! Grab a coffee, your Bible and a seat- like I said I’m loud so it’s okay if you sit in the back. There’s no escaping this.

I’m so glad to be here with all of you tonight! As I look out, I see several of you I know but there’s even more of you I don’t know so by putting to use the great critical skills my parents paid for me to get through five and a half years of college, I’m going to conclude you don’t know me either! So a short background…

I’m not from Quincy.

I KNOW… so hard to believe, right?? With that northern ohhh just ringing out above the crowd and the obnoxious nasally ahhh  you’ll catch more times than you care to hear tonight, I’m going to guess it’s a dead give-away to you that my roots are in the north. I’m originally from the great state of Michigan. My introduction wouldn't be complete without this so everybody hold up your right hand. Now take your left hand and point to the dead center. Alright you just squished my parents. It’s okay- they love Jesus and are far more forgiving than me, so welcome to the Koutz family.

Now I've lived in the Hannibal/Quincy area since 2005 after landing here for my second bachelor’s degree- hey at least I didn't waste their money right?? For eight years, this has been my home. I’ve been blessed with the most amazing friends and since you’re all here tonight I’m sure you agree, the most amazing church family.

I was asked to share with you tonight what Christmas means to me. Obviously, my answer has changed over the years. As a child, it meant new clothes- the obsession runs deep folks, what can I say? Paul had his thorn, I have mine. Don’t judge! But when Heather posed that question to me a couple weeks ago, there was one word that immediately came to my mind: home.

Now like we determined earlier, not all of you know me so a little more history. Seven of those eight years I spent making Quincy my home with my then husband. We got to grow up together, making our own traditions and enjoying a lot of great times. Obviously, since I said THEN, there were some hard times too.

We struggled with infertility for two years before finally conceiving our first child in 2011. I’m not sure the transition word to use here… I use to say unfortunately when I described this part of my life, but God has blessed me with a different perspective now, so basically I'll just say that at 12 weeks I ended up miscarrying. It was very hard for us and a very bitter time for me in my relationship with God, but God is also far more forgiving than me and blessed us again in February of 2012 with the news we were expecting a second time. The joy didn’t last long though. In March I would discover my husband was being unfaithful. I was devastated. In a flash, my home was crashing around me. Everything we relate with home- love, security, peace, was snatched away from me. Remember when you were a child, you’d have those moments when you got hurt at school or maybe you were at a friend’s house and you’d say, “I just want to go home.” I remember lying in my bed, rocking back and forth just sobbing and saying I just want to go home. But there I was in my own bed at home.

Now you guys wouldn't be the first people to tell me that I’m crazy, but do you ever have that feeling?? I mean, sometimes life just sucks. Work isn’t going the way you want it, bills aren't getting paid, and relationships are failing and deep inside your heart there’s this aching that pleads, “I just want to go home.” Gosh, I had that feeling more times this past year than I care to recall, but I know there’s a reason for it. I feel that longing because this place is not my home. It’s not my home and it’s not your home.

Hebrews 13:14 says, “For this world is not our home; we are looking forward to our city in heaven which is yet to come.”

There are several other verses in the Bible that talk about our heavenly home. Phil. 3:20-21 reminds us how our citizenship is in heaven and we eagerly await our new bodies Jesus will give us.

John 14:2 says, “In my Father’s house are many dwelling places; if it were not so, I would have told you; for I go to prepare a place for you.”

Over the last eight years, Christmas has been the one consistent time I get to go home to Michigan. I look forward to it for months. My mom always does a great job of “preparing a place” for me. Now for me that means making sure we eat what I want and that there’s Vernors in the fridge.  But even bigger than the menu, is that I’m surrounded by love and laughter and a peace that you just can’t explain. I’m sure all of you understand that feeling. It’s that same feeling that our hearts ache for when the troubles of this world overtake us. When we can’t understand why the doctor gave us the news he did or why a friend betrayed us. It’s the comfort and joy we've tasted that makes us say, “I just want to go home.”

This place wasn't Jesus’ home either. That day centuries ago, in a stable filled with hay, Jesus gave up the same security and comfort we long for, that our hearts ache for, so that we could have it for eternity. He left his home and came to earth as a baby to give up his life so one day he could share that home with me. Can you even imagine the nights he'd be crying out, "I just want to go home." to his Father?

I long for the day I’m home. Where the loneliness is gone, my children are in my arms and I’m in my Heavenly Father’s. I'll be surrounded by my church family- friends from Michigan and Illinois and Missouri and wherever else I end up- all together at home.

I don’t know your story, what it is that makes your heart cry “I just want to go home.” But I do know it’s because of Jesus’ sacrifice that one day you can be there and He will wipe every tear from your eyes. There will be no more death or mourning or crying or pain. All these things will be gone forever. (Revelation 21:4)  And you will be home.

"Instead, they were longing for a better country- a heavenly one. Therefore God is not ashamed to be called their God, for he has prepared a city for them." 
Hebrews 11:16

A Prophet to the Nations

"Children are the living messages we send to a time we will not see." 

John W. Whitehead, founder of Rutherford Institute

I don’t remember a time I felt more joy than when I discovered I was pregnant. I’d gotten to a point in my life where I had seen the gifts God had given me and I could see how they could be used as a mother. It was a purpose I longed for, to care and love for a child, to selflessly serve that child with all that I had. After two years of trying, I had prayed and prayed for this child and finally in the summer of 2011, he was here. I couldn't wait for our first doctor's appointment.

I was 11 weeks along, and I remember not being able to sleep because I couldn't wait to see the heartbeat, to see him on the screen. That smile my husband loved was lighting up my face as the doctor started the ultrasound. She applied the jelly and began moving the wand across my already slightly showing belly. I watched the screen with anticipation, but the more she moved the wand, the more my smile began to fade and the more the sparkle left Ryan’s eyes. The room was so quiet and I knew it wasn't good. The doctor began speaking, explaining something about my body thinking it was still pregnant when I’d actually lost the pregnancy weeks earlier, something about the placenta continuing to grow though the baby’s heart had stopped. I remember her saying she hoped she was wrong and saying I’d have to have a more detailed ultrasound. I remember having to sit in the waiting room for what seemed like hours waiting to be seen by the technician, crying; it took all I had not to just fall to the ground and weep in the waiting room. We’d have to wait more as they read the results of the second ultrasound but we already knew. I wasn't going to have my baby; the only thing we could do was wait for the inevitable. A week later I would have to go to the emergency room, experiencing the worst pain of my life as I finally began miscarrying. The next day I would have surgery to remove what my body was too weak to pass.

In the days and weeks to come, so much of me felt like when they removed my baby they removed a part of my soul. I lived in this darkness and bitterness toward God for giving me hope after two years of trying only to rip it away. It was such a dark time for me. I was so sad and hurt and angry. I prayed so many years for my husband to grow closer to God. I prayed that God would bless my marriage. I prayed that He would give us a child. None of that was happening and I felt so alone.

Despite that darkness, despite the distance I felt from God and my husband, we would get pregnant again in February. I felt that joy all over again, but on March 10, 2012 my world would come crashing down around me. That day I found out that less than a month after my first miscarriage my husband entered a physical relationship with another woman and it had continued all the way to this point. I was devastated. I didn't know what to do and I just rocked back and forth in my bed sobbing. All I kept saying was, “how can I have this baby, how can I have my baby?” It felt like my world was crashing down on me. Do I stay in a marriage where my husband despises me and risk it happening again when there was now a child involved? Would our child end up feeling exactly how I felt in this moment, hated and betrayed? Or did I leave and face life as a single mom, again with my child feeling everything I was feeling in that moment, like he wasn't enough for his dad to stay?

I don’t remember that next week. No matter how much I rack my brain and try to work through what happened in the days to come, I don’t know. But on a Sunday later that month, Ryan and I had just finished talking about our plan moving forward. He wanted to make it work and we had just picked out baby furniture. I had gotten up from the couch where we had been sitting and headed to the bathroom to get ready for bed. All the joy I had felt just seconds earlier rushed out of me as I discovered I was spotting. My heart sank because I knew, I just knew; God wasn't going to let us keep this child either. 

We went to the doctor and we got to see her heart beat. There was this glimmer of hope but the heartbeat wasn't as strong as it should be and every week I would have to go back and every week her heart rate was slower. I remember sitting in my office at work praying, God please save her and just saying over and over again through tears, “I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry.” Saying it to God and saying it to her. It was my fault we were in this place. It was my fault she was never going to get to live in this world. To this day I can’t even write these words without crying, without telling her all over again how sorry I am. I felt so selfish. I don’t know which miscarriage was worse, going in with the joy and expectation of meeting my first child only to find out he was already gone or the pain of knowing your child is dying inside of you and there’s nothing you can do but wait for her heart to beat its last beat. When that day came, the doctor gave me medicine to help with the miscarriage and once again I felt a part of my soul be taken away with my child. This wasn't my perfect plan.

But for the first time I started to realize, maybe it was His.

I wasn't going to be holding a child in my arms as I had planned, but for the first time in so long, I was letting my Father hold me. Every night I would read Psalm 119. I don’t know why that chapter, I don’t remember what took me there but I found comfort in it; I heard God’s voice in it. Every night I would pray for healing in whatever way God wanted to bring that to me. I started seeing Him in my life again; the miscarriages weren't God’s way of punishing me. It was grace. It was Him saying, “I see things you don’t. I know things that are to come and I’m going to save you and your children from so much pain.” If there’s one thing I've learned through this journey it is this: God’s promises are true. Psalm 119:28 says, “My soul weeps because of grief; Strengthen me according to Thy word.” I read and prayed that verse every night. I grabbed onto those words with every ounce of my being and as time passed God did just that. He strengthened me, and how? By His Word.

In the Old Testament, God brought His message to His children through prophets. God did the same for this child. He gave me two amazing prophets: my children. My first child brought me God’s message of hope. During those two years of trying so much pain came with every month, with every negative pregnancy test. God knew I needed hope and so He sent it. Unfortunately, I responded like a child with bitterness and anger when it was taken away. Just as He’d done for Israel so many times, God gave me another chance though. He sent me my second child. This time He gave me a message of mercy. He kept me and my child from experiencing a lifetime of heartache due to my husband’s choices. He showed me I was forgiven and gave me the opportunity to respond this time with thankfulness. My children brought me the message I needed most: a message of God’s grace.

Like Israel though, there are days I forget that message. I forget that gift He’s given me. Other days, I remember it, but I forget to share it. I don’t want to make the mistake I made after my first miscarriage; I never want to return to that ungratefulness.

This week I got a tattoo as a reminder of that grace and as a memorial to my children.

I’m so grateful for the time God gave me with my children and I know through me their message from God can live on. God knew my children before he formed them in the womb. He knew me before I was born. And He's appointed all of us to be His messengers. I’m so excited for the opportunities I will have to hear other women’s stories and struggles with miscarriage or infertility. I know that pain and I know there’s a purpose for it. It’s such a silent struggle and it doesn't have to be. I hope my tattoo, my story, helps another woman find her voice and her message from God, just as my children did for me. 

What's your story? What's God's message for you? Never forget your purpose as His prophet; share it.

Before I formed you in the womb, I knew you. Before you were born, I set you apart. I appointed you as a prophet to the nations. Jeremiah 1:5

Reason to Sing

"Where words fail, music speaks."
Hans Christian Andersen

For our high school graduation, my parents gave my sister and me each a new Bible. Inside of mine, my mom wrote:

"The music in our life." Go forth and "seize the day" with God on your side. Love Mom and Dad

At that time, it could probably be said that music was my life and "Seize the Day" was a reference to a song I had performed several times. Since I can remember, music has been a part of me, one of my greatest passions and the greatest way I knew of how to communicate with God.

"Music speaks what cannot be expressed, soothes the mind and gives it rest; heals the heart and makes it whole, flows from heaven to the soul."

When  I was growing up, whatever I was feeling, I could always find a song that was fitting. If not, I'd write it. Whether it was a CD, the piano or my voice serving as the vessel, the notes were my message to God and often God's message to me. But the music that transcribed the triumphs and trials of my younger years barely scratched the surface of the messages that came and went through this past year of my life. This weekend, as my friend Christopher played guitar and we both sang, we got to share one of those messages with his home church.

One night in casual conversation before dinner at our weekly small group, my friend Kayley told me about a band called All Sons and Daughters. She specifically said I should check out their song "Reason to Sing." Always open for suggestions, I did. That night after Bible study I bought the track. That night I found what would be my heart's cry for so many nights to come.

When the pieces seem too shattered, to gather off the floor. And all that seems to matter, is I don't feel you anymore, no I don't feel you anymore.

I need a reason to sing. I need a reason to sing. I need to know that You're still holding, the whole world in Your Hands. I need a reason to sing.

I was at a point where I didn't have my own words anymore. The timeline of my life had brought me to a point of silence:

Oct. 10, 2011- I miscarried at 12 weeks after trying to get pregnant for two years.

March 10, 2012- I discovered my husband had been cheating on me since November.

April 5, 2012- I miscarried at nine weeks.

Summer 2012- I was aboard a roller-coaster, better known as my life, as my husband said he loved me and wanted to make it work but continued to step out of the marriage.

All I could see was the timeline, all I could feel was the heartache. I needed a reason to sing and I needed a way to tell God that. I prayed that song so many nights. I felt like the prophet Elijah; I was exhausted and there were days the only words that did come were, "It is enough; Lord, just take my life." (1 Kings 19:4)

That night at Bible study, in that casual conversation, the Holy Spirit worked through Kayley. Through that song the Holy Spirit started working on me. I needed a reason to sing and it started with remembering that God was holding the whole world in his hands and that included my world.

Throughout the fall, the winter, the spring and even this summer more songs would come. Songs I have known my whole life, others I haven't. But God has always given me the message I needed when I needed it.

When I was mourning the babies:

When peace like a river attendeth my way, when sorrows like sea billows roll. Whatever my lot thou hast taught me to say, it is well, it is well with my soul.

When I realized, I had made my husband my idol:

He is jealous for me, loves like a hurricane, I am a tree bending beneath the weight of his wind and mercy. When all of a sudden, I am unaware of these afflictions eclipsed by glory and I realize just how beautiful You are and how great Your affections are for me.

Today, while I was sitting in church with Christopher's mother's arms around me, I was reminded of another song:

Never once did we ever walk alone. Never once did you leave us on our own. You are faithful, God. You are faithful. Scars and struggles on the way but with joy our hearts can say, never once did we ever walk alone. Carried by your constant grace, held within your perfect peace, never once, no, we never walk alone.

If there's one thing I'm most grateful for, it's that message. It has brought me to tears numerous times this past year. There have been days where I have felt so alone, like no one knew what I was going through, the pain and the loss I felt. It was the lie Satan used the most. Whenever I heard this song, it was God reminding me of the truth. Sitting next to me in church so many of those Sundays were Jake and Amy, a couple I didn't even know when I was married but who were now my family, whose laughter brought back mine and who let me enjoy motherhood in a new way by loving on their precious baby girl. Whenever I needed to feel like I had a home, Katie and Kory's door was always open and I was always welcomed with loving arms to dinner (or TCBY!) with their family. Around me every Monday, loving on me and praying for me, were the greatest friends someone could ever hope to have. When I needed a companion, someone to just sit with me and let me feel normal again, Christopher was there to enjoy a ball game. And getting me through every single day, text by text, morning to night, our hearts breaking and healing together, was my closest friend April. Never once did I ever walk alone.

There may not always be words, but there will always be a song. There will always be a message. And I will ALWAYS have a reason to sing. 

I will sing to the Lord as long as I live; I will sing praise to my God while I have being. Psalm 104:33

From Fear to Faith

“All I wanted was a little piece of life, to be married, to have children.... I was trying my damnedest to lead a conventional life, for that was how I was brought up, and it was what my husband wanted of me. But one can't build little white picket fences to keep the nightmares out.” Anne Sexton

Anne Sexton, a journalist-turned-poet plagued with depression, built her figurative fences in an attempt to keep her nightmares out. I built my fences to keep the nightmares in.

To the average passerby, I was living the perfect life- I’d graduated college, built a career and married the love of my life. After four years of marriage, my husband and I began trying for our first child. It was the white picket fence life, but behind the safety of that fence was anything but perfection.

I had one year of marital bliss and what followed was years of pain. The inside of my white picket fence became stained and splintered with each angry word, each unveiled secret and lie and each drunken night of mistreatment; but every day I’d wake up, paint a smile on my face and make sure the outside of my fence remained in pristine, whitewashed condition, always giving the appearance of the perfect, happy couple. Until in what would be my last year of marriage, my perfect lie came crashing down as I suffered the trauma of an unfaithful husband, the pain of two miscarriages, the heartache of divorce and a life far off the beaten path of perfection. The white picket fence was an illusion and my nightmares were exposed.

I wish I could say that every day I asked myself, “How did I get here?” But I didn't. I didn't ask, because I knew. With one choice, with one denial of the Holy Spirit’s guidance, I set in motion what would later be the consequences of my own sin. 

As I look back at my wedding, I cringe. My mom and I like to joke now that maybe it was a sign when I thought the cake was ugly or that there was a huge snowstorm that delayed rehearsal and guests’ arrivals. We joke, but in all honesty, we serve a tenacious God and as I was racing for the aisle I’m sure he was throwing up caution flags at every turn and giving me every opportunity to STOP. As I stood with my dad at the top of the steps into the foyer outside the sanctuary of my church, it was like an out of body experience for me. I can see myself standing there and I can hear the words, “You don’t have to do this. It’s okay to walk away.” But I couldn't. It was as if I was frozen.

I am skilled in the craft of argument and debate and a voice of reason inside of me weighed every earthly matter in just a matter of seconds as the processional music began: the money my parents had spent, the distance family had traveled, the disappointment of everyone in my life for going this far and walking away, and above all, the love I had for my fiance; because I did love him. He had so much good in his heart. He was the person that would do anything for his friend. And he had this freedom about him, such a carefree attitude that balanced my obsessive need for order; a spontaneity that challenged me. He always said how he loved my smile; I didn't, but I loved smiling, and he could make me smile with just one look. We had this passion for one another that I thought I would never experience with anyone else. With all of these things waiting for me in the sanctuary, I just couldn't walk away. And in just those few seconds, I told my heavenly Father no and chose fear over faith. (Side note- If there’s one thing I could tell young women today it is this: no matter how much passion a man has for you, it will never make up for the passion he lacks in his relationship with Jesus Christ.) 

I knew Ryan and I were unequally yoked. I knew how we had stumbled throughout the entirety of our relationship and I knew how it had always been me leading. Yet I was a skilled debater. I looked at God’s outline, grabbed one of his bullet points and used it to build my own case. Marriage is from God, I told myself, so surely he would bless this union. Ryan believes and if I just keep praying he will catch up. I chose to reason away the Holy Spirit and instead of listening to my Father’s voice, all I saw before me was fear. Instead of doing what God was calling me to do I chose to follow my own plan and drove down the first post of my white picket fence.

I’m not the first woman to follow my own plan instead of God’s, and I’m sure I won’t be the last. As I struggled with the decision I made in the years to follow that day, I often felt drawn to the character of Sarah as she struggled in her walk of faith.

God had promised Abraham and Sarah that they would have offspring as numerous as the stars in the sky and through them God’s people would be blessed. God had a perfect plan for Sarah but as the reality of life faced her, fear crept in. She was beyond child-bearing years and her time still hadn't come. I know that feeling, what it’s like to wait and wait to be a mother, to long for the moment you can hold and nurture your child. I know the tears that pour out with each passing month, and even more, the doubt that floods in. When it came to be too much, when the fear was larger than her faith, Sarah created her own plan.

“Go and sleep with my servant. Perhaps I can have children through her,” Genesis 16:2

As the trials of life surrounded her, Sarah’s focus wasn't on the joy of fulfilling God’s plan for His people but on her immediate desire for motherhood. She took matters into her own hand and gave her servant Hagar to Abraham. With one decision, came many consequences. She blamed Hagar, she blamed Abraham, and she even blamed God for the mess that followed. But thankfully that wasn't Sarah’s legacy. God saw past her flaws of fear to her future faith; though her faith was weak, we discover in Hebrews 11:11 that it developed into something incredibly powerful:

“By faith even Sarah herself received the ability to conceive, even beyond the proper time of life, since she considered Him faithful who had promised.”

There are always going to be moments in our lives where we are faced with a choice to do right but the possible consequences may fill us with fear. Praise God that He forgives us for those moments of weakness when we choose fear over faith. Praise Him that He doesn't see us for just who we are in that moment but for whom He destined us to be. The pain I suffered because of my marriage doesn't have to be my legacy; my divorce doesn't have to be my legacy. God didn't prevent Sarah from making a poor decision; He didn't prevent me from making one either. He allowed it to happen and He’s used it. Our faith is a journey. And I hope that my faith journey follows the path of Sarah's.

“Thus Sarah obeyed Abraham, calling him lord, and you have become her children if you do what is right without being frightened by any fear.” 1 Peter 3:6

Impostor Revealed

“In a futile attempt to erase our past, we deprive the community of our healing gift. If we conceal our wounds out of fear and shame, our inner darkness can neither be illuminated nor become a light for others.”  

Brennan Manning, Abba's Child: The Cry of the Heart for Intimate Belonging 

Impostor: a person who practices deception under an assumed character, identity, or name 

In a world that promotes the “perfect” image, so often we abandon the truth that God accepts us as we are. We hide our true selves, presenting an impostor to our audience of friends, family, fellow church members and coworkers. We respond to “How are you’s?” with curt answers such as “fine;” or for the enthusiastic pretender such as myself, “great!” Every day we choose what face we will present to the world; some of us even choose what face we will present to God.

In Brennan Manning’s book Abba’s Child, Manning encourages his readers to accept that God offers a love far greater than we could ever imagine with no prerequisites for admittance into his extended arms. He challenges us to push past the superficial relationships that have become the norm and risk being exposed for who we really are so that we can truly experience Christ’s love. For me, that is something easier said than done. I've always been a private person; an actress in my own right, rotating masks according to the role I was expected to play. But this past year, as I've been pushed far outside my comfort zone (or rather shoved off the ledge!), I've been forced to evaluate who that’s really helping. While I’d rather just erase my past, God is challenging me to use it.

In Abba’s Child, Manning recalls Thornton Wilder’s one-act play, “The Angel That Troubled the Waters.” A physician visits the pool of Bethesda, waters known for their healing powers when stirred by an angel, hoping to be healed of his melancholy. When the angel appears he blocks the physician just as he is ready to enter the water. The angel tells the physician to turn back because it wasn't his time to be healed. The physician pleads with the angel, longing so much to be released from his emotional torment, but the angel insists that healing is not intended for him. These are the words of the angel:

“Without your wounds where would your power be? It is your melancholy that makes your low voice tremble into the hearts of men and women. The very angels themselves cannot persuade the wretched and blundering children on earth as can one human being broken on the wheels of living. In Love’s service, only wounded soldiers can serve.” 

This blog is my opportunity to trash the masks and expose myself as the wounded soldier that I am. This has been an intense year of heartache but it’s also been a year of great faith. God’s story has collided with mine and this blog is my chance to let him illuminate the darkness of my story so it can be the healing gift he intended.

2 Corinthians 12:9- But he said to me, “My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness.” Therefore I will boast all the more gladly about my weaknesses, so that Christ’s power may rest on me.